


Proving Speed Wrong

by pollitt



Series: sync your playlist with mine [1]
Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack hadn’t been expecting the green eyes, or the messy brown curls, and definitely not the soft Canadian accent. Eugene was, in a word, nothing like Jack’s type. </p><p>And, as it turned out, not Jack’s intended date. But that hadn’t stopped them from getting a drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proving Speed Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to dogeared for comma wrangling and work picking, and for giving me the thumbs up even though she has no idea who Jack and Eugene are. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
>  And thank you to elecricchicken for prompting me along.
> 
> The title is in reference to the quote/conversation from _Speed_.
> 
> Annie: You're not going to get mushy on me, are you?  
> Jack: Maybe. I might.  
> Annie: I hope not, 'cause you know, relationships that start under intense circumstances, they never last.

“Oh my _god_.” Eugene’s breath is hot against the back of Jack’s neck, and his hands are sliding along Jack’s arms, lacing their fingers together as Jack feels a very familiar weight curling behind him like a perfect fit. “You softie. You absolute and total sap.”

As far as ways to be woken up go, this ranks rather high. Of course it would be better if there were an actual bed for them to share--one that Jack would feel dip with the weight of Eugene crawling in next to him--in a flat that they could call their own, instead of a mattress on the floor and heavy drapes hung from the ceiling for walls offering a minimum of privacy. But all things considered, and considering how much worse it could be, Jack isn’t going to complain. Not when he can lean back into Eugene’s embrace. 

“After all this time, I can’t believe you still --” Eugene continues, his words brushing against Jack’s skin, disturbing the hairs at the nape of Jack’s neck. “You romantic fool.”

It might help, of course, if Jack had any clue what Eugene was talking about. 

“Not that I’m not appreciating this outburst of affection. I’m touched, literally. But might I ask what the reason is behind these sweet nothings?” 

An off-white, almost-gray piece of crumpled paper floats into Jack’s vision. It’s too close for him to focus on, but it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to see it clearly. He knows every crease of the page and how the ink’s faded over time so that the words -- eggs, bacon and coffee -- are barely legible. 

\-----

_Jack had only agreed to the date after months of being worn down. Charlie had insisted, had begged, pleaded, promised and threatened that this was perfect, a great match, if only Jack would just take a chance._

_Jack finally said yes, and that was how he’d found himself sitting at a corner pub staring at everyone who walked in the door and looking for a guy in a blue shirt._

_“Sorry, hello, I think...” a man in a blue shirt had started to say, and that, as they said, was that._

_Jack hadn’t been expecting the green eyes, or the messy brown curls, and definitely not the soft Canadian accent. Eugene was, in a word, nothing like Jack’s type._

_And, as it turned out, not Jack’s intended date. But that hadn’t stopped them from getting a drink._

_The drink turned into a meal, which progressed to a tour of every local record shop in a five-kilometer radius, where they browsed and argued and discovered a mutual weakness for underproduced American folk music. And when Eugene had suggested catching the newest blockbuster that was high on explosions and low on plot, Jack had rolled his eyes and commented on the bad influence America must have had on Eugene’s moviegoing tastes. But he'd agreed, and he’d been the one who reached out and took Eugene’s hand before the first trailer had finished._

_They’d skipped dinner, at least formally. They ate takeout while wrapped in a bedsheet and sprawled on Jack’s bed._

_It was almost like something out of a movie -- from the mistaken identity to the expertly selected soundtrack to the post-coital takeout dinner -- and Jack had been ready to write off the whole thing as one of those stories you tell years later with a smile and a shake of the head when Eugene had opened his eyes and asked if Jack wanted to go get breakfast._

_The special report on the ZN1 Pandemic was announced on the café’s radio just as Jack was settling the tab._

_They saw their first animated corpse 20 minutes later._

_Less than an hour after that, they were on the road._

_A short while later, after Jack had christened W.G. with his first zombie brain matter, he remembered to ask Eugene his last name._

_Somewhere along the way, as they were fighting zoms and staying alive, it all just fell into place. They didn’t have time not to fall in love._

\-----

Jack takes the receipt from Eugene’s hand, “Of course I kept it." He cups Eugene's jaw, letting his thumb skim along Eugene's bottom lip, "How many other first dates get interrupted by the zombie apocalypse?”

**Author's Note:**

> Written pre-iOS 1.4/Android 1.2 update for Radio Mode


End file.
